


The Art of Rickrolling

by kyrilu



Category: The Disaster Artist (2017), The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside The Room - Greg Sestero & Tom Bissell
Genre: M/M, Post-Movie(s), Pre-Slash, Rick-Rolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: Greg teaches Tommy about the noble art of rickrolling. Tommy finds it a bit hard to understand, at first.





	The Art of Rickrolling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [krisherdown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krisherdown/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! ♥ I loved the movie so much (which completely ran with the memoir's original homoeroticism and it was amazing) and I was so excited to write this fic.

_We’re no strangers to love. You know the rules and so do I…_

Greg let out a groan and closed the tab. Tommy looked over his shoulder to see his computer and said, “What’s the matter, Greg? I thought that was our song.”

“It’s become this viral – internet – thing,” Greg said. “It’s bait and switch. Like you think you’re going to one website but then you actually go to Rick Astley’s music video instead. And then you’re like, aw man, because you’re in the wrong place. You know?”

“Hmmph,” Tommy said. “Strange prank. I don’t get it.”

Greg shrugged. “It’s the internet, man, I dunno.”

“I know what internet is,” Tommy said. “Don’t tell me you forget about the merchandise I sell online.”

“Yeah, all the footballs and shirts and watches, and uh, underwear and stuff.” Tommy had given Greg a complimentary pair of boxers. It was bright red and had Tommy’s name on the waistband, and Greg had yet to wear it.

“It’s very successful,” Tommy said. “You have a girlfriend now? I have ladies’ underwear I can give her.”

“Nah,” Greg said.

He had a couple of flings after Amber, but nothing solid. Tommy always seemed to be sporadically asking Greg about his dating status, and Greg would always truthfully say no, he wasn’t seeing anyone. Every time – just like now – there would be this weird, clear relief in Tommy’s eyes that Greg pretended not to see.

Some things were just too complicated to face, no matter how many years it had been.

“Anyways,” Greg said, “so you learned something new today. Rickrolling.”

“What?”

“That’s what it’s called. Bait and switching links on the internet.”

\----

That night, Greg received an email from Tommy.

_Subject: NEW UNDERWEAR DESIGN!!!!_

_Greg, we have a new The Room underwear design!!! Check it out and share with your friends and family._

<https://www.tommywiseau.com/product-category/watches/>

A minute later, Tommy sent another email: _HAHAHA get it? Those are watches, not underwear._

A minute after that, Greg’s cellphone rang, and Greg picked it up. Tommy was laughing on the other end, sharp and loud. Greg couldn’t help grinning.

“I rickroll you,” Tommy crowed. “Twice in one day, Greg. Very gullible, falling for internet tricks like this.”

“Ha – right,” Greg said. “Yeah. Although, you know, it’s called rickrolling for a reason and you’re supposed to link to the video. It’s not exactly how you did it, but you were close.”

“There are rules or something about rickrolling?” Tommy asked.

“Well, it’s about making sure you have, uh, the right comedic timing. The link you emailed kind of gave it away – see how it has the word ‘watches’ in it?”

“Oh,” Tommy said. He sounded disappointed.

“Not that you have bad comedic timing or anything,” Greg added hastily. “It’s a weird internet thing. Practice makes perfect. It was your first rickroll, after all.”

“Yes, I have perfect timing, comedy or drama or otherwise,” Tommy said. And, just as if it was the old days, back in acting school, he launched into the lines of a scene. A half-remembered monologue, rambling quotes from a movie he and Greg had just seen in theaters.

Greg smiled into the side of his cellphone and let Tommy’s halting words wash over him.

“You were great,” he said, when Tommy finished, and he caught himself wishing this conversation wasn’t over the phone so he could see Tommy beaming at him back. Which was a stupid little thing, but – but, yeah.

\---

They were having lunch when two guys – two college kids, to be more accurate – approached them and asked them for their autographs.

Even now, it gave Greg a bit of a thrill to sign his name with a flourish, putting it on the torn-out notebook paper that the kids presented them. Meanwhile, Tommy dashed out his name with a scribble and urged them to check out _The Room’s_ website, putting a link down beside his signature.

Greg glanced at Tommy’s expression. After the kids walked away, he said, “Did you--?”

“Yes,” Tommy said. He tapped his forehead. “I memorize the link to YouTube video for a time like this. To show you my proper rickroll.”

Tommy leaned closer across the table and whispered: “It is not _The Room_ website, Greg. It is a cat. Playing piano!”

Greg found himself patiently correcting Tommy again, but that was okay. Tommy seemed exasperated but not angry, and they wound up watching a bunch of cat videos on Tommy’s phone together.

\---

Surprisingly, the next time Greg heard Rick Astley’s _Never Gonna Give You Up_ , it wasn’t because Tommy managed to get the rickroll right. Instead, they were at one of the usual clubs they frequented, waiting their turn to duke it out at the pool table.

Then, out of the blue, as people spun on the dance floor, _Never Gonna Give You Up_ crackled over the speakers. The song switch prompted everyone in the club to groan and laugh good-naturedly – Tommy the loudest of all, nudging Greg as if to say, s _ee? I get it._

“You gonna dance?” Greg asked.

Tommy shrugged. “Maybe. It is strange to know that it is internet joke now. It is not same as _Rhythm of the Night._ ”

Greg thought back to years ago, hearing the same song while sitting next to Tommy in his car. He had been a dumb nineteen-year-old who had no idea what he was getting into – singing to himself as he packed for Los Angeles – but it hadn’t been a disaster. He was here; Tommy was here; they had a midnight screening of _The Room_ to attend tonight to meet their fans, and _Never Gonna Give You Up_ was playing loudly and joyfully in the background.

“Screw what the internet says,” Greg said, smiling crookedly. “It’s still our song.”

It was the first time Greg had ever joined Tommy on a club dance floor. He dragged Tommy over, and Tommy took up his usual routine of floppy flailing arms and legs, black hair wild, and Greg grinned and pumped his own arms in time with the music.

_Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you..._


End file.
